Buried Passion
by heartcarver
Summary: Clementine Bricker is a singer in America and is mildly known for her performance in Buffalo Bill's show. What no one knew about was the string of murders she left all over the west territories. After a bloody mistake she escapes to Paris and under the name Adelaide Le Gall, begins to preform in the Palais Garnier. But a lingering ghost isn't happy with the new singer on his stage.
1. Chapter 1

The air was clear and bright on this particular morning in Paris. The day couldn't be more perfect. This put Clementine on edge, as it was with these sort of days where nothing went as planned. And she needed everything to go as planned. The policeman on corner didn't need to see her, she some how needed to pass her walk-in audition for Faust at the Palais Garnier, and most of all she needed money.

It cost her almost all she had to get on that boat to France, and she was in need of some new clothes. She'd left them all at Mr. Smith's house when she fled there from the sheriff. There were still faint blood stains on the dress she wore now. She looked down at her skirt, her eyes knowing exactly where the blood had splashed. Yes, Jedediah Smith's death had been a messy one, which was why she was in Paris. It was why she cut her hair and died her eyebrows black. She needed to disappear, but make money. And that's why she was here, the Palais Garnier. She was taking her life back by the reins. No one would stand in her way.

She held her head high as she crossed the street to the opera house's many columns, but not too high as too draw the attention of the police man. She had no idea how far news of her reached, but she didn't want to take any chances. As she walked through the grand doors into the large grande foyer, Clementine began to feel that she was in over her head. What on God's great earth made her think this was a good idea? She kept walking until she reach the grande staircase. She could hear a high soprano voice from behind the closed auditorium doors. Auditions had already began! Before the panic could set in, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

As she opened them, she reminded her self who she was. She reminded herself who she was as she took determined steps towards the doors.

She reminded herself who she was as she flung them open, and walked down the large aisle, confused and astonished eyes on her.

She kept reminding herself as she walked up to an older, frazzled man that sat in the front row, who had been judging the now-silent singer. Clementine reminded her self who she was once more as the man in front of her asked just who she thought she was. Who she was. Shit. She couldn't tell this man her real name, she'd be caught for sure.

She gave him a practiced, dazzling smile and said, "Adelaide Le Gall." She kept the smile, but her heart fluttered sporadically. Please buy it, please buy it... He looked down at his clipboard and scribbled her new name down. "If you would please have a seat, Mademoiselle.", he spat out. She nodded and walked to a row of whispering women. Their chattering silenced as she took her seat. They all turned away from her with a chorus of eye rolls. Perfect. Clementine, now Adelaide, crossed her arms. This was going to be a long day.

It seemed as though the auditions would never end. Girl after girl would walk onto the stage sing her little bit, and then the next would follow. It seemed like years before Clementine was to sing next.

While the women before her, a little bird of a thing, squacked out her aria on stage, Clementine prepared herself to preform a miracle. She'd preformed miracles before, when she's wrestled Mr. Clide to the ground and plunged his pocketknife into his side while covering his screams, when she'd killed Mr. Valasques while trying not to fall off the roof, the list went on. Hell, the breaths she took now were small miracles in of themselves.

It would take a new breed of miracle to do what she planned to do next. Clementine had never had any formal operatic singing lessons. When she'd made it into Buffalo Bill's they'd given her "some opera-singin' lessons" but it was just the bare necessities to raise her voice above the others, appease and audience that had never heard a professional. It didn't compare to what was sung here, on this grande stage, in this grande house, and this grande city.

Today, she'd learn if her voice was as beautiful as West America thought it was. She heard her name being called as she stood up, her legs walking of their own violation up the steps to the stage and moved towards the center. When she was in control of her body once more, she felt the white hot lights beating upon her skin. Her eyes bore into the darkness beyond the lights and she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead. A voice shouted from the darkness, "What will you be preforming for us?" " Ah! Je Ris De Me Voir Si Belle.", she smiled, voice only shaking slightly. A minute of silence passed. "Begin." Clementine took a calming breath and looked into the blackness. She wasn't Clementine anymore, she was Adelaide, a beautiful and stunning singer. Rolling her shoulders back, she took a breath, and began.

"Ah! je ris de me voir

Si belle en ci miroir,

Ah! je ris de me voir"

Clementine could practically see the jewels dancing in front of her. She remembered the first pair of diamond earrings she bought, and her addiction had escalated from there. Rubies, opals, emeralds, pearls, she loved them all and with and steady flow of money and men they were never in short supply. At least, that's how it had been before. But Clementine was determined to return herself to her former glory, she would have all this and more in due time. She let the lyrics flow through her, like water. She loved this aria, it felt as though it was written just for her. She imagined she was Marguerite, placing the jewels on her wrist and neck. Clementine melted into the song, it's melody washing over her. She found her self singing the last note, and opened her eyes to the blackness beyond the lights. As she walked down the steps of the stage, she was greeted with a singular, frantic applause from the older man.

"That was beautiful Mlle...", he looked down at his clipboard.

"Le Gall", she finished for him, a gracious smile dancing on her lips. The man nodded and called for the next girl. Clementine couldn't help it when her smile curled into a spiteful smirk as she took her seat. While the little slip of a girl on stage sang an off key aria, Clementine knew it was all in vain. There was no doubt who would play the role of Marguerite.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time since she'd stepped of the boat into this bourgeois city, Clementine let a true smile sprout on her face. Not one to seduce or appease, just a show of true happiness. She aloud this small moment all to herself because everything was just, well, _perfect._ Rehearsals had gone well with only slight hiccups.

Though they caused no major damage, these happenings were odd none the less. First, a curtain fell without any known person being the cause of it, then, a ghostly laugh echoed throughout the theater, and finally, the most concerning of all, a crate came flying down from the catwalks as she was running through her aria, exactly where she was standing. She had heard it falling and scrambled out of the way just as it smashed violently into a million pieces, just where she had been only moments before. While everyone was busy screaming in fright and tittering amongst themselves, Clementine noticed a small paper flutter down in front of her. She swipped it up before anyone could notice. It read just one line in red, childish sprawl. " _Get off my stage."_ It was signed simply 'OG'.

She tucked it into her bodice as she glared up at the dark cat walks and confused crew looking down at her. This wasn't a surprise to Clementine, after all she'd had more than her fair share of jealous rivals trying to bring about her end a little sooner than she planned. And this is exactly what she thought it was. She knew a couple of the chorus who weren't too fond of her, it could be anyone of them. She would have to ponder it later as a hoard of people, along with the managers, were making their way up the stage to see if their lead soprano was still in working condition.

She'd heard stories of the Opera Ghost, that he had been silent since the _incident_ , but no matter how much she asked, none of the Garnier staff would answer her questions. They probably didn't want to lose her, as the house had been having trouble finding a decorated singer for their shows and they were all to fortunate to find her.

But none of that mattered now. Tonight was her debute, and she intended to make this night unforgettable for her lovely audience. It was now Act Three, and she was prepared to dazzle the audience with her aria. She could hear Siebel professing his love for Marguerite faintly in the background as she prepared herself to go on stage.

She thought of everything she wanted, what a chance in the spotlight like this would mean for her prosperity. Money, clothes, jewels, men... She had been having an itch as of late, one that desperately needed to be scratched. She needed to kill. Her blood hungered for it, her soul yearned for it. It acted as a release of all tension, anger, and sadness built up inside of her, although only momentary.

Before she could let out a frustrated sigh, Clementine calmed herself. This was not the time to get agitated, she was here to create magic for the audience, and her priorities needed to be in order. "In due time," she reminded herself, "in due time." She would have her man, and her blood.

The audiences appaluse rang dully in her ears as she stepped onto the stage wearing a pensive and thoughtful look. Clementine sang through her lines, wondering of the man who professed his admiration of her, told of the King of Thule, and fought with herself on the decision to open the chest of jewels from Faust. Soon enough the time had come for the Jewel Song. She delicately bedecked herself in the jewelry, basking in the knowledge that all eyes and ears were attuned to her, and was beginning to sing her first line when she saw something in the corner of her vision.

A usual tactic that her jealous enemies would use to get Clementine off the stage, was to lug sandbags over the catwalks in hopes they would land on her head. Other items were used such as crates, anvils, canonballs, and other more violent objects, but since most of her rivals were small girls, sandbags were most often used. Over the years she had learned to avoid this tactic, but not after suffering the effects of a 30-pound bag of sand landing directly on her head.

She jerkily stepped out of the way at the last second, her voice wavering only a bit. She kept a pleasent smile on her face and tried to act as if everything was normal. The audience gasped, but that didn't deter her.

"Ha!" she thought, "The little bitch thought she could ruin me with a sandbag! She has no idea who she is dealing with!"

But then another fell, and another. It was like a small storm of sandbags were raining onto the stage. She stepped out of their path as quickly as she could while trying to keep her voice soft and angelic as she sang of jewels while trying not to be smashed by a sandbag.

And then the unthinkable, the unbearable happened. The audience began to _laugh_. Oh no, no no no! This is not how this was supposed to be! She was supposed to shine, be revered, inspire awe! Not be made into a fool tripping over her own feet as God rained sandbags from above. Now she would forever be remembered as a laughing stock.

As she neared the end of her ruined aria, the sandbag storm had lessened but occasionally one would drop, just to keep her on her toes. Her anger was palpable, she was seething. But all her rage bubbled, unseen, under a serene mask. She let the last note ring from her lips as a sandbag feel near her on the last note.

Her applause was speckled with laughfter, and as Clementine turned to disscuss with Marguerite's neighbor, Marthe (who was actually named Cècilia), she found that she was standing, dumbfounded, a few feet from her mark. Clementine indicated with a quick shift of her eyes for the girl to get to her mark and Cècilia quickly scurried up to her, trying and failing to sing as if all were well.

When the curtain closed for the next act, Clementine dashed to the small staircase leading up to the catwalks and almost barreled through 3 men carrying the unconscious bodies of 4 crewmen. She pushed past them and skipped the last step at the top as she burst into the catwalks. There weren't many men around, as most of them were down in the wings trying to reveal the perpetrator, and to prove it wasn't themselves.

Clementine grabbed a large board laying closed to her and held it threateningly. "Where are you?!" she whispered, swiping the board in dark corners. "You're ruining my debute!" she swung the board harder in the all the dark crevices and corners she could find. "Come out!" She looked around her, eyes squinting, trying to make out vague shapes in the darkness.

She could feel that someone was there, a presence, mocking her. After searching again and finding nothing, she growled agitatedly, and went back down to the wings.

The mood was ruined for the rest of the show, and she audience didn't take anything seriously after the 'Fall of the Sandbags." An occasional sandbag would still fall from the heavens at random intervals during the rest of the opera, which induced crazed laughter from the audience. Clementine promised herself one thing that night as she dodged the 100th sandbag. She would find who did this, and she would kill them.


	3. Chapter 3

Clementine stared into her dressing room mirror, contemplating her current situation. She was a smart woman, and never made any decision without careful planning. This phantom business was troubling to her. It could very well mean the end of her career at the Palais Garnier.

The ghost seemed to be everywhere. Strange happenings were constant in the theatre, the ballet girls were always shrieking about seeing a strange figure in the darkness, and, strangest of all, no one would enter her dressing room.

She had asked one little ballet rat, Emilia, who the dressing room's previous owner was, and she nervously whispered, "Christine Daaé". Emilia made her promise to tell no one that she had uttered her name to her and Clementine half heartedly sweared on her mother's grave that she wouldn't, which seemed to please Emelia.

Christine Daaé. Another singer most likely, but what was so sinister about some little singer? Clementine sighed. Perhaps she had something to do with the ghost? A lover?

Clementine smiled to herself. What a hilarious thought. The lover of the Opera Ghost. This time Clementine laughed out loud. But who was Christine?

Clementine turned away from the mirror, pacing. She was restless and agitated. It had been sometime since she had murdered and needed to do so soon. But there would be no slow seduction this time, no presents and luxuries. This time she would kill instantly, she had no time or patience for dancing around what she wanted.

She decided she deserved a break. After doning her coat and hat, she made her way out of the house to sate her bloodlust.

Finding a gullible pig wasn't too hard. She left through a small entrance on the Rue Glück, leaving the door a jar. She then found a questionable tavern that wasn't more than a couple blocks away. Such places could even be found in an expensive area such as this. There were many choices to be found inside, old, fat men who would do anything to get their filthy hands on a young woman. She slunk in like a cat, and caught the eye of a portly gentlemen with bulging eyes and thin dry lips. No words were spoken when he got up from the bar and followed her outside.

His fat hands were on her before she was even out of the door. He shoved his disgusting tounge down her throat. She almost gagged but forced herself to reciprocate. The man's hands were clawing at her generous clevage that was exposed to the cold night air. She pulled away from him to whisper in his ear, "Follow me."

He followed her like a dog back to the Rue Glück, calling her filthy names while telling her the equally filthy things he was going to do to her. Her anger and hatred were mounting with every step. His puffy, red face held a lecherous smile that made her blood boil.

She slipped them inside, making sure that the hall down towards her dressing room was deserted. It was the dead of night, and the opera house was almost empty. The only people occupying it now were drunken crew members. She curled her finger toward him as she slunk down the hall.

Once they reached her room, he cackled out, "A singer, eh? I'll soon make you sing for me." Clementine gave him a mischievous smile, her anxiety rising. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his fat neck and squeeze until he choked on his own spittle.

She couldn't open the door fast enough. The fat man waltzed inside, unknowing, right into a spiders web.

He was on her again, his disgusting mouth glued to hers. She slowly led him to the small fainting couch that was on the other side of the room, her heart beating faster with each step she took. Once they reached it, he pushed her down onto the plush cushions and began hiking up her dress, his fingers grazing her silk stockings.

Clementine didn't panick though. She had done this enough times to know how to handle a controlling man. Before his hands could reach any higher, she gently rolled him over in a display of power that most men found attractive, not deadly, which was the poor bastard's mistake. She continued to kiss him, her hands slowly inching across his chest to his neck.

Her heart beat sporadically, her stomach fluttered in nervous excitement. She forced herself to move slowly and not to strike too quickly.

He chuckled into her mouth, and squeezed her backside.

Her hands were at his shoulders now, and in one swift moment, she lifted herself from his mouth and wrapped her hands tightly around his blubbery neck.

He let out a weak scream of surprise as his breath was cut short by Clementine's strong hands. She sqeezed harder, pressing him into the couch, putting pressure on her thumbs. He choked and stuck his fat tounge out of his mouth as he weakly slapped at Clementine's arms. Her face contorted into a nasty snarl as her grip tightened. The man's face was an alarming shade of purple, and his eyes bulged out of his skull.

His life left him in a choked cry as he slumped into the couch.

Clementine sighed as she sat back on his fat stomach and raised her face to the ceiling. Euphoria flooded her body, the feeling of his life draining from his body took all of the anxiety and frustration caused by the past few weaks out of her. She felt as though his life had flowed into her, and she was now rejuvenated. Eyes still closed she smiled to herself.

All was well now. She had nothing to worry about. No one could stop her, she was invincible.

After basking in the glow of her kill. Clementine donned a dark black cloak who's hood covered her entire face. She had stuffed the fat man's body into a burlap sack that she had kept folded neatly in the bottom of the small dresser that sat in the center of the wall across from her mirror.

She had to get rid of the body, which was the most tedious part of her hobby. Of course she could do it herself, but the risk of someone witnessing her stuffing a body into a barrel or throwing a corpse down a well was too great, so she always hired some help.

She drug the body down the Rue Glück, and made her way to a less favorable neighborhood where she found a group of 3 men talking and drinking presumably stollen liquor in an alley.

They all stopped talking as she approached them.

"Hello, little lady.", said a tall man who sulked against the building next to him.

"I have job for you lot.", Clementine replied in a slightly deeper voice than natural.

"Oh?", the man replied, chuckling to the other men who responded in kind.

"What's in store for us?", he asked as his eyes roved her body.

"This." she replied. She threw them three small bags filled with francs. They hit the ground with loud jingling thuds, made louder by the still night air. "There's more after the job is done."

The men exchanged knowing looks with each other until a short stubby man stood up and walked over to her.

"And just what's keeping us from taking the rest from you?", he asked with a devilish grin on his face. Faster than any of them could anticipate, Clementine pulled a small knife from her bodice and grabbed the man by his shoulders, turning his back to her as she held the knife to his throat.

She could smell the intense stench of an unwashed body and liquor from the man as she pressed the knife closer to his throat.

"If you could give me hand gentlemen, I would be very greatful."

They looked to each other, shocked at the turn of events. The tall man looked to her nervously answering. "Of course. However we can be of service to the lady."

"Thank you.", she pushed the man away from her.

As he stumbled away, he muttered under his breath, "Crazy bitch."

She slung the sack in front of her. "What is it?", one of them asked.

"That is none of your concern. I need you to dispose of it into the Seine."

The men grudgingly removed themselves from their lounging positions, and hoisted up the sack together.

She followed them to the Seine, keeping her distance all the while. She gave them four more bags once the deed was done.

"Ah, nice doing business with you." the third man, an awkward, gangly sort, said cautiously to her as he fingered his pay.

Clementine gave no reply as she sunk into the night. As she walked back to her newly purchased apartment, which was located on a fairly wealthy street, she felt as though everything was right in the world, and that all of her problems would come to pass. She was exhausted by the time she entered her house and after undressing, her head had scarcely hit the pillow before she was in a deep, peaceful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Soft humming could be heard within the back-end of the Palais Garnier, and its creator just so happened to be in extremely high-spirits as she made her way into her dressing room to retrieve a comb she had forgotten, after all she wanted to look her best today and the small comb's emeralds matched perfectly with the green in her dress. She'd had a wonderful night's sleep, relieved some stress, and had had a wonderful breakfast.

Today Clementine couldn't be happier, as today she sealed her fate. Today she signed her contract with the Opera Garnier. She was looking forward to a life of luxury, and felt that she deserved it as well.

She found her comb right where she left it, on a small coffee table arranged in front of her dark red fainting couch. Her dressing room had come together rather nicely. She had arranged for wallpaper do be put up that sported a deep, red, elegant pattern. A small round end table made of dark wood that held a beautiful china vase stood in the corner of the room just to the left of the door, right across from the door stood her fainting couch and dark mahogany coffee table. Across the room from the beautiful gilted mirror that had been placed in the room before she came, stood and ornately carved dresser, which held extra garments and some spare towels to help her clean up after her "hobby". A large desk sat close to the mirror, its purpose mainly to hold the many bouquets she recieved from her adoring audience.

But Clementine found something else next to her comb, something that made her blood run cold. A sealed envelope, addressed to her in a familiar, red, childish sprawl. _Oh no._ No, no, no, not when everything had been playing out so perfectly! She hurriedly opened up the envelope, not even bothering to use the letter opener in her desk drawer.

She wretched the letter out, and it read:

 _Mlle. Le Gall,_

 _It has come to my attention that you have failed to heed the various warnings I have given you to exit my stage, it has also come to my attention that you invited a guest into your room last night, at an entirely ungodly hour, and then proceeded to strangle him, among other things. Considering that I am a man of mercy, I will give you two choices. You can leave my opera house and never return, or you can choose to stay, and I will tell the managers of your dirty deed. What is to become of you after that, I cannot say, but you will be permanently removed from my stage for good, that much I know. The choice is yours._

 _Your obedient servant,_

 _OG_

Clementine slammed the letter onto the table, her breath coming out in harsh pants. No. This would not happen, she would not let this happen! She was so close, so close to her destiny. Clementine's breathing intensified as she paced her room. And then, an idea came to her.

She hurried over to the mirror, then taking a deep breath, struck herself across the face.

To say that Armand Moncharmin was surprised to see his new lead soprano burst into his office with a cut lip and a swollen eye, while blubbering incoherently, was an under statement. He had hoped that his last week managing the opera house would run smoothly, but as always, something came up.

No one knew that he and his partner, M. Firmin Richard, were planning on turning the house over to new management, and they were planning on reveling the news today. Neither of them wanted to deal with the ghost's antics anymore, but they also didn't want to leave the Garnier in shambles, as they felt it would reflect badly on their reputations. So before they left, they made sure that they had found someone to replace their previous singers.

Moncharmin hoped he wouldn't have to replace this one as well.

"Mademoiselle, what's happened?", he asked as she threw herself into his arms.

"It was the ghost! That dreadful opera ghost! He burst into my dressing room and he-", at this Mlle. Le Gall began sobbing dramatically.

After somewhat calming the young woman, Armand called for a doctor come and assess her injuries. After assuring her once again that everything would be fine, he left the room hurriedly to find M. Richard.

No sooner than immediately after the door slammed after Moncharmin, did Clementine let a self-satisfied smirk spread across her swollen lips.

 _Now let us see the opera ghost push me off of his stage!_

Thinking she was alone, Clementine let out a devious chuckle.

Erik was furious. How dare this self-righteous little bitch from god-knows where, waltz onto his stage like she owned it and dismiss his commands to leave completely! And now this! He listened to her chuckle to herself from beneath her feet, under his secret trap door.

It took all of his will power not to burst from the door and strangle her, right there in the office. The only thing keeping him from doing such a thing was the drama and noise it would cause, and Erik was so, so sick of the noise.

If only he could rot away in the comfortable solace of his underground lair in, in complete silence. That was his only wish, or so he thought.

As of late, Erik wasn't entirely sure what he wanted, which put him in an even fouler mood.

As he stalked back down to his house, he pondered what his next letter to Mlle. Le Gall would contain, and whether he should actually kill her or not.

 ** _Author's note: I'm sorry for the extremely short chapter, I've been very busy lately. Also, I know that this chapter is somewhat confusing, but everything will be explained in the next chapter. Thank you to the people that read this fic, it means so much to me that you would take time out of your day to read my little story._**


	5. Chapter 5

After the doctor had accessed her injuries and prescribed treatments for them, Clementine was told by Moncharmin that she should spend the next couple of weeks resting, so that her face could heal as quickly as possible. The doctor had commented on how some of the bruises looked oddly placed, but she just burst into loud sobs every time he voiced this concern and he stopped trying to point out her strange contusions.

Clementine was sure to put on a show, shrieking to Moncharmin that if her safety was to be compromised, maybe she would find work some where else.

Of course he was all to quick to assure her that it would never happen again, that the opera's security would be hightened for her safety.

But in all honesty, Moncharmin knew that extra men would be useless and just for show. The ghost could easily send any and all of them to their maker, but at this point, he felt that this was the new owners' problem.

It had been around 4 weeks since Clementine had taken her leave of rest. Her face was mostly healed with the exception of a small cut on her lip and a faintly yellow left eye. She went back to the Garnier in 2 days and was much enthused to return, for she was certain that the ghost would no longer be a problem.

She firmly believed this, until she found the letter.

Clementine had been preparing for bed, when she decided to crack open the window a tad, for the air was damp with humidity.

As she did so, she happened to look down at the small desk below her, and almost shrieked.

There, lying menacingly on the desk, was and envelope addressed to her, in that dreadful red sprawl.

" _How did he find me? Is he still here?"_ She was frightened beyond belief as she tore open the envelope.

The letter inside read:

 _Mlle. Le Gall_

 _I am sure that you feel as though you've bested me, I suppose. But, let me assure you that the only thing you have served to do, is make me much angrier. On the day of your return, it would be wise on your part, to head to the roof of the Opera Garnier at 11:00 in the evening._

 _Your ever humble servant_

 _OG_

Her hands shook. How did he get in? Who knows how long it had been since the letter was delivered. She sat it down on her desk and rubbed her temples, walking to her bed.

Every time she thought she had taken care of him, he would reappear with some other scheme, or one of those god-aweful letters. "Your ever humble servant", the sarcastic signing of the letter proved to make her all the angrier. Maybe it was best to do as he said, after all Clementine wasn't entirely aware of his limits, and she could only test them so much.

After deciding to sleep on the matter, she closed her eyes and fell into a sleep filled with visions of cat-like eyes and malevolent laughter.

It was Monday, and the Palais Garnier was bustling with activity in preparation for the upcoming production of _Carmen._

Carmen had always been one of Clementine's favorites, as had _Faust_ been. Had she not had a date with a manevolent ghost at the end of her day, she would have been filled with excitement, not dread.

Her focus that day, wasn't at all what it usually was. While she was attentive to the maestro, she couldn't help but scan her eyes around the large theatre, searching for a lingering shape or shadow in the darkness.

She couldn't have been happier or felt more relief when rehearsal ended for the day. As she walked to her dressing room to freshen up for her rooftop appointment, Clementine couldn't help but be filled with nervous, excited energy.

She had always craved danger, even when she was younger, not that the age of 26 was very ripe. From the first time she had killed a filthy old codger, whom she was wooing to milk as much cash from him as she possibly could, her veins flooded with ecstasy. There was no feeling like it, a mix of adrenaline and self-satisfaction that only comes as the product of revenge.

She didn't know exactly why she had done it the first time, maybe it was because of the way he acted, of the way they all acted, like they owned her, like she owed them something. What at first became her only way of survival became an addiction, seducing and murdering. Even after she gained a moderate income from her job at Buffalo Bill's, her thirst wasn't quenched.

Watching the life leaving eyes that once roved over her like she was a piece of meat was almost as pleasurable as the orgasm that came as their lifeless bodies seized. It was easier and all the more treacherous to preform the act during intercourse, when they were the least suspecting. All of her anger arose during this time as well, which made it all the easier to slaughter the man inside of her.

She would be lying if she said that their deaths never brought her to pleasurable achievement.

Clementine closed her dressing room door behind her and flopped listlessly onto her small fainting couch. She glanced at a small clock on the wall. It read 10:30. She had better hurry up if she didn't want to be late.

She stepped over to the full-length mirror to survey her face after a full day's work. Clementine was a pretty girl, she knew not why, only accepted the fact and used it to her advantage. She was moderately pale and had long blonde hair who's texture seemed to lye between kinky coils and gentle waves. She had large, chocolate brown eyes and a thin, but not too thin, elegant nose. Her high-cheek bones added to her sophisticated look, and her finely shaped rose bud lips were enough to draw any man in.

Her kohl had become a bit smudged, so she reached into her desk draw and retrieved her pencil. After touching herself up, she began making her way to the roof of the Palais Garnier.

It was cold and windy, and Clementine, wrapped her shawl tighter around herself. No one appeared to be here. Cursing the OG for tricking her, she was about to turn back when a voice made her stop dead in her tracks.

"Good evening, Madmoiselle."

That voice. Like silk, no cashmere. It was like the blackest night just caressed her ears. Any and all trepidation that she had was erased. Clementine turned to face the opera ghost, to lay eyes on him for the first time.

And he did not disappoint.

Before her was an extremely tall man, so much so she had to slightly tilt her head up to take him all in. He wore impeccable formal wear, long trousers and a coat with tails, all in black. But what stood out most, was the black cloth mask he wore.

Never in all her life had Clementine seen anyone like him. She couldn't help but take few steps closer. "Good evening.", she replied politely, her eyes full of curious wonder.

He was hypnotizing, all legs and arms, like a spider.

"Let us not make this more complicated than it must be.", his voice carried over the wind with such resonance so that it seemed as though he was speaking directly in her ear.

Clementine shivered with delight. Who _was_ this creature? He didn't seem to be of this world, it was as if he had emerged from some other realm, be it heaven or hell. His voice did have a holy timbre that could be likened to Gabriel, but that rich, seductive undertone could only come from the most sinful, lustful, bowels of hell.

"Of course.", she said with a somewhat nervous smile. Clementine still hadn't forgoten his threats, and she still didn't know why he had ordered her to their present meeting spot. It would be wise for her to be vigilant.

He stalked around her, in a slow circle, like a cat. Clementine felt like meek prey under his impenetrable gaze, her heart beat faster, but not as the result of terror.

"Why have you called me here?", she asked, her voice shaking with nervous excitement.

"Because,", the opera ghost replied. "You have ignored my previous warnings to leave my opera, and so now I am here to ask politely once more.", his eyes burned like hell fire in the darkness. This only made Clementine's heart flutter more.

"Why is it so imperative that I leave?", Clementine replied breathily, eyes trained on the sensuous enigma before her.

All at once he was at her ear, harshly whispering, "Because I do not wish for a harlot to tarnish my stage! How dare you stand where she once stood!"

Even though is voice was seething in her ear, he was still standing just ten feet in front of her!

Clementine's stomach coiled in fright. She had never seen this, in all her years performing, she had never witnessed something as terrifyingly impossible as this.

For the first time ever, she was speechless. When her silence reached the opera ghost, he stalked towards her, his towering height becoming all the more obvious to her.

"What do you have to say for yourself, little whore?" Clementine was to frightened to even give him a good kick for the insult (however true it may be.) She just stood there, terrified as he peered down at her, his angry breathing rattling through his whole body.

The moment she felt his hand settle around her trachea, her hand lept out and grabbed the top of his fine shirt, pulling him down and slamming her other fist into his masked face.

He grabbed her by the throat once more, one hand holding his face. She ripped his hand from her and grabbed his forearm and wrist. She yanked the bones apart with great force, attempting to remove the bone from its socket. She almost succeeded, as a strangled cry was emitted from the spectral offender.

All of the sudden, a gloved hand was sailing through the air, and struck her in the face. Clementine fell hard onto the cold roof below her, stars swimming in her vision.

She let out a cry of rage and scrambled to her feet but when her eyes opened to the chilly Paris night, all that she saw was an empty roof.

 ** _Authors note: I apologize for the late update. School is killing me slowly and I have little time to even eat. Between drill team and college classes, sophomore year is becoming a living night mare. Thank you to those of you who haven't lost interest in what I am doing._**


	6. Chapter 6

The cold winter wind rattled the window panes of the bedroom, making the anxious woman that lye in the bed jump with fright. Clementine's eyes were wide, looking around her room suspiciously. After what had happened at the top of the Garnier, she knew there would be no sleep tonight.

"That voice, that anger..." She shivered at the thought of his gloved hand around her throat.

Everything she had thought she knew about the phantom was wrong. He was a legitimate threat, not just to her career, but to her life.

What would he do to her if she arrived at work tomorrow. Her stomach twisted at the thought. He'd nearly killed her on the roof that night, who knew what else he was capable of.

Clementine shifted uncomfortably, afraid to roll over, lest she turn her back and be vulnerable to what ever crept in the dark shadows that lye in the corners of her room.

It was no use. Sighing, she got up and lit the lamp on her desk, washing much of the room in a golden light. She flopped into her desk chair to plot her next move.

Her opponent was calculative, cunning, and sinister. The most she had been up against were petty, sneaky broads who were trying to either steal her position or her man. She would have to play her cards right with this one, no mess ups could be had.

As Clementine thought back to her near death experience, she remembered an odd bit of the ghosts rambling bursts of dialogue."How dare you stand where she once stood!" He had been practically shaking with anger, but what had he been speaking of?

Clementine thought back to her conversation with Emilia. Who had she spoke of again? Oh yes! Christine Dia? Christine Dilla? Christine Daaé! That was her name.

Apparently this mystery singer had once occupied her dressing room. Maybe she was the phantom's lover after all?

Had he killed her? No one had dared even speak her name, for fear of what would happen to them. With this being so, it was extremely difficult for her to get any information from her fellow chorus or the crew.

This whole business troubled Clementine, and to ease her mind, she pulled on her dressing gown and cloak and sank into the night to find another victim, for it would take all of her wit to survive another day at the Garnier.

... _OG._..

"Mlle. Le Gall!"

Clementine's head snapped in the direction of an unamused Maestro Reyer.

"I don't know where your mind is at this moment but I need it to be in this theater!"

"Yes, Maestro."

As the chorus began "La cloche a Sonné", Clementine tried to focus on the singers around her, but her eyes kept wandering to the boxes above.

Her distracted behavior was present throughout the entire rehearsal.

When M. Reyer called for a break, Clementine made a beeline for her dressing room, but her path was interrupted by an older gentleman.

She identified him as one of the new managers, of whom had occupied the position while she had been on leave.

The gentleman's hair was combed back on his head, the ends reaching just above his shoulders. His eyes were deep and dark, his facial structure refined and sophisticated.

"Mlle. Le Gall,", she stopped dead in her tracks. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you. I am M. D'Aramitz, one of your new managers.", he said politely.

"The pleasure is all mine.", she replied with a smile. Raising her hand, he took it in his and gently laid a kiss on it. "I'd heard of you beauty, but may say that it is much more stunning to witness."

Clementine smiled prettily. "Oh, what fun he'll be.", she thought.

"Was rehearsal pleasant?", he asked.

"As pleasant as rehearsal can be.", she chimed back.

"Well, I certainly cannot wait until the opening night, with you as the lead soprano, I am sure that Carmen will be stunning."

"Thank you, Monsieur.", she thanked him politely.

"I must take my leave now, I'm afraid, but it would be most pleasant for us to converse later, don't you agree?", he smiled dashingly.

"Of course."

"Until then, Mlle. Le Gall." She nodded to him as he walked away.

"What a man..." If only she could afford to truly indulge herself, oh what fun he could be indeed.

Clementine nervously walked to her dressing room, afraid of what she might find inside.

Sure enough, they're on top of her chest lye a small piece of parchment paper.

Written in the same messy, red handwriting were the words:

Mlle. Le Gall,

You are proving to be more troublesome than I anticipated, but make no mistake, this is my theatre.

... _OG..._

Slamming the letter back onto the chest, she let out a great sigh, then flopped listlessly onto her fainting couch.

Why, why, why! Why did everything have to be so difficult! Why couldn't she have just come to Paris, become an opera performer, and kill as many men as she wanted!

She let out a great sigh and closed her eyes. Her break would be over in 10 minutes, then she would be back to being Adelaide again, putting on her facade.

... _OG..._

By the time rehearsal ended, Clementine was exhausted. She couldn't wait to go home, and as she walked down the hall that would lead out to the Rue Glück, she happened upon M. D'Aramitz. She would be lying if she said that his sudden appearance wasn't pleasing to her. She couldn't think of a better way to unwind from the day.

"Mlle. Le Gall, a pleasure to see you again"

"Please, call me Adelaide.", Clementine batted her eyes flirtatiously.

They walked with leisure down the hall, Clementine subtly leading him to her dressing room. M. D' Aramitz made many compliments on her ravishing beauty, his eyes roving over her body. Clementine would giggle and blush, telling him, "Oh, you embarrass me!"

Once they had arrived at her door, she turn to the Monsieur, asking him "Would you like to come inside?", her eyelids lowered flirtatiously. "Of course.", he replied, heat shining in his grey eyes. Clementine smiled and opened the door and stepped into the room, M D' Aramitz following behind her. She made sure to lock it behind them, ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed.

"Please, make yourself comfortable.", she said as she gestured to the couch. As M. D' Aramitz sat down she began pouring herself some brandy from a trolley next the wall.

"Would you like a drink?", Clementine asked.

"Of course, that sounds lovely."

She poured the rich amber liquid into a crystal glass and made her way over to the couch.

Now this, she had missed. He would fawn over her, shower her with attention, carry his new mistress around on his arm like a prized Pomeranian, and then he would die.

M. D'Aramitz took a sip of the alcohol, swirling it in his mouth.

"How are rehearsals coming?", he asked.

"Slowly but surely."

"I cannot wait to see you perform as Carmen, it shall be an enchanting performance."

"Oh will it?", Clementine raised one brow and smirked. She put down her glass, and M. D'Aramitz did as well.

M. D' Aramitz raised his hand ,caressing her neck. "You are beautiful.", he breathed.

"Am I?", Clementine leaned her head back, keeping eye contact with him as he grazed her neck with his fingers.

He leaned into her, a hair away, and breath out "Yes."

And then he took her lips in his.

Clementine kissed back with fervor, happy with herself for snagging the fine gentlemen. He would prove to be an endless source of entertainment.

Their lips clashed, a lustful, hot, tangle of desires. Clementine's hands moved to his shoulders, and she itched to wrap them around his neck. She tightened her grip, and reminded herself "In due time."

They continued to kiss, M. D'Aramitz hands roving her body.

At long last, M. D' Aramitz pulled away, caressing her side as he did so.

"I am afraid I must take my leave."

"A shame ", Clementine replied.

"Yes, but I am sure we can spend much more time together in the future.", he said with a mischievous smile.

"Of course.", Clementine smirked back.

He walked her to her house that night, and Clementine slept with ease, forgetting entirely about the letter from the opera ghost.

... _OG..._

Clementine arrived to work the next morning feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after a good night's sleep.

As she headed towards her dressing room, her mind was filled with ways to ensure that M. D' Aramitz became ensnared by her charm.

Last night had been a playful romp, she needed to catch his attention, and hold it. She could tell he was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and if that was indeed the case, she would need to act just the right amount of difficult to make him want to possess her.

Smiling at her schemes, Clementine arrived to her dressing room and walked inside. She poured herself some brandy and sat on the fainting couch, chuckling at the memory of last nights escapades.

She took a deep sip and sighed, looking around the room. That's when she noticed something out of place. A folded piece of paper, sitting menacingly on the coffee table.

She quickly sat down her drink and swiped it up, almost tearing it in her hurry to read its contents.

Mlle. Le Gall

I knew you were promiscuous, but not such a whore. What are your intentions? If it is indeed to kill him, I cannot allow it, he has been most cooperative with my demands. Play this game carefully, Mlle. Le Gall. This is my opera house, and I see, and hear, everything.

 _OG_

Clementine was shocked. How did he know! How did he seem to know everything! The door was closed, locked! No one else was in the room, how could he have possibly-

The mirror.

It had to be that bloody mirror.

No other room had one, just hers.

She'd heard of two-sided mirrors before, that magicians would use them to fool their audience.

That must be what he was using, there was no other explanation, Clementine never believed in ghosts anyway.

Somehow…

She cautiously took a step towards the mirror, he could be behind it, at this very moment, watching her.

There had to be someway for him too…

Clementine's hand ran along the sides of the golden gilt, in all the nooks and crannies, but she couldn't find anything. No switch, no indentions, nothing!

Frustrated, Clementine took a step back, observing the large frame.

She'd always been resourceful, and this situation would be no different.

She took any object she could find in the room, pens, brush handles, hand mirrors, and ran them along the seam between the mirror and the wall.

Nothing.

Until she ran her letter opener in a half hearted attempt into the dark crevice and she heard a small click.

And the mirror swung from the wall.

"Aha!", she exclaimed, delighted at her handy work.

Quickly, she ran over to the door, and locked it. Then she snatched up the letter laying on the coffee table and shoved it into her blouse.

She lit a candle and took a full book of matches with her, and with that she walked into the empty darkness of the unknown.

... _OG..._

The tunnel, was dark and damp. Her small candle seemed to be suffocated by the vicious blackness.

Clementine wouldn't admit it to herself, but she was a little frightened.

She was in a dark tunnel that she found behind what she thought was a normal mirror, walking into the domain of being that had tried to kill her.

Clementine took a deep breath of musty air.

She could do this. If she'd survived this far in her life, she could defeat whatever lie in these dark catacombs.

Her footsteps echoed in the blackness, the only other sound besides than the skittering of rats and the slow _drip, drip_ of some unseen water seeping through the moss covered stone.

She didn't know how long she had been walking through the dark tunnels, but her feet were beginning to hurt and her corset dug into her spine in the most uncomfortable way.

She had no idea where she was, as her plan to simply memorize her way had failed.

She felt foolish, but she kept reminding herself of her mission.

Find the opera ghost, and kill him.

But, the thing was, she didn't know exactly how to do this. She had no idea where he was or where he could be. If she didn't kill him, he would keep going back, and he would keep getting in the way of things.

All of the sudden, she came to her senses.

Clementine stopped and realized she had walked into a dark passage, without knowing where the hell she was going, and had foolishly expected to find her dark phantom conveniently awaiting his demise in plain view of her meager candle.

 _"Stupid, foolish girl. What are you doing!"_ , she screamed internally.

Clementine stopped, panic setting in.

She turned, trying to retrace her steps.

The tunnels winded and twisted all around each other, and the random path that Clementine took had long disappeared from her mind.

She sped through the catacombs, running into walls and tripping over dark shapes.

Clementine began to breath harshly, her mind trying to recall some sort of path she had traveled. Her panic rose, her breath coming out in harsh pants.

Why oh why were there so many turns!?

She couldn't find anything, nothing, no marker or anything to indicate if she had or hadn't been down this corridor.

Tears began to well in her eyes, and a dark press of hopelessness settled into her stomach.

No.

She would not let her herself give up, she would not-

Suddenly the floor gave out from underneath her feet, and she felt herself falling, falling, falling…

Until she hit the floor with a sharp _crack!,_ and numbness spread throughout her body.

She thought to herself, _"Now would be a perfect time for a nap…"_

And the darkness swallowed her.


End file.
